


Tribulation//mcyt x reader

by pleppie



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dream Team - Fandom, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, BadBoyHalo - Freeform, Fanfiction, Fundy - Freeform, Good Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs - Freeform, Minecraft, Nihachu - Freeform, Quackity - Freeform, Ranboo - Freeform, TechnoBlade, TommyInnit - Freeform, Tubbo - Freeform, dream - Freeform, georgenotfound - Freeform, mcyt - Freeform, punz, sapnap - Freeform, skeppy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleppie/pseuds/pleppie
Summary: A Hunger Games AU in which you and many other minecraft youtubers endure a series of obstacles. Will you be able to prevail or will you break under the pressure? Make enemies or friends?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

I wake up from a deep sleep, the sun shining through my small window on the opposite side of the room, blocking me from seeing my surroundings. Sitting up from my lying position, I swing my legs over the bed and place my feet on the floor, feeling the cool temperature of the rough hardwood on the soles of my feet. I stand up and pull up the thin, coarse fabric I had been using as a blanket to the top of my bed, smoothing it so it looks neat, and placing the flat, firm pillow down on top. I open the door to my room, revealing our small kitchen accompanied by a stove, sink, and icebox. I reach into the cupboard to grab oatmeal, and place a small pot on the stove to boil water. Scooping the oats out of the jar and into the pot, I peer out the window to see if my father is home yet. I see no sign of him. After the oats are done cooking sit down at the small square table that sits beside one of the few windows in the house. I dip my spoon in the oatmeal, scooping a spoonful once it’s cool, and take a bite. It’s bland, but so is everything else we eat. I’m used to it. The sound of the front door opening causes me to turn around. In walks a tall, bearded man with brown hair and tan skin. My father.

“Hi pap! How was hunting? Get anything good?” 

He holds up a single rabbit, which answers my question. “Don’t worry, I’ll come with you later today. Just like you say, I bring good luck.” I smile, taking another bite of my breakfast.

He returns the smile, letting me know his appreciation. It’s tough, but my pap is doing such a good job. It’s been hard for us, having to adjust after the death of my older brother Mickle. He died in a hunting accident not even a year ago, leaving just my pap and I alone. We’ve been barely getting by, having to conserve every ounce of food we have in case of disaster. My pap always says that if mom was still alive she would find a way to make the best of our situation, but unfortunately she passed away seventeen years ago while giving birth to me. He always tells me the best stories about her, which leave me smiling, wishing I was able to get to know her personally.

“What’s the time?” I ask, knowing I’m late as always.

“Looks like it’s about half past eleven. You better hurry up, you're running late,” He replies. I rush to my room and get dressed. I put on a light sweater to protect me from the cool autumn air, and pull on my only pair of jeans that are now baggy on my thinning legs. After getting dressed, I stride to the front door, slipping on my shoes and hollering “Bye Paps!” on my way out. I quickly make my way outside the village, where my friend will be waiting. I make my way to our meeting spot, the tall grass rustling as I fly through it. Out of breath, I approach her with a guilty look on my face. I start to apologize profusely, knowing there are no excuses. She stands there, arms crossed and a smirk on her face trying not to laugh. 

“You don’t think I know you were going to be late?” she snickers, “I didn’t leave my house until ten minutes ago. I’ve known you for ten years, come on now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say embarrassed, “Sorry I was late for your big day. You’re seventeen! Happy birthday Bella!”

“Thank you Y/n, and it’s no big deal you know that.”

“Ready to go to the bakery? I’ve been saving up, so I can get you whatever you want.”

“If you don’t mind, I was hoping we could do something a little different this year? I know going to the bakery is tradition, but I have a fun idea.” Bella suggests

“Of course! It’s your birthday after all.”

Bella leads me to a part of District 11 I have never been before. We make our way to the outskirts of the forest where my eyes meet a red and white checkered blanket laying on the grass with a large wicker basket sitting on top. The trees hang over the blanket, creating an even cooler atmosphere around us. Sitting down, Bella opens the basket. She sets a sparkling white plate in front of me, along with glistening silverware. She continues to take multiple items out of the basket, making it seem like something Mary Poppins would own. 

“Where did you get all of this? It seems very expensive,” I comment, looking at the dishes and assortment of foods.

“My mom already had the silverware and plates, and we all pitched in to buy the food,” she smiles, “I wanted to make it extra special this year, you deserve it.”

“But it’s your birthday, why?” 

“I know how hard things have been for you, and how much you’ve been working. You deserve a distraction,” she says sincerely.

I grab a slice of ham along with a bit of mashed potato and start to eat. Sitting here with Bella is so calming, the birds singing beautiful melodies and the sweet smell of tulips make it especially welcoming, and the rustling of the trees in the wind sounds like a lullaby. Both of us were so caught up in the scenery, that when we heard the crack of a branch, we were both immensely startled. Whipping my head around to face the trees, I see part of a face before the figure cowers behind a tree.

“Who’s there?” I say sternly 

“What’s wrong?” Bella questions

“I saw someone,” I stand up and head over to the trees, reaching into my pocket for the knife I always keep on me.

It looked as if the person had made a swift getaway; the forest was bare of any sign of them. I sit back down, still ready to fight if need be. After we finished our meal we head back to town, occasionally looking back to make sure no one is following us. 

“Want to come to my house?” Bella suggests, “My family hasn’t seen you in a good minute. They would love to chat with you.”

“Oh for sure! Let’s go!” 

And with that, we make our way to Bella’s house.


	2. Chapter 2

We continue through the field of tall grass, nearing the village where Bella’s house stands.  
“So what else are you doing for your birthday? Got anything special planned with your folks?” I ask Bella  
“This year we’re going to go berry picking! We haven’t had a chance to go in ages.”  
I smile, “That sounds nice! Are you sure you don’t want to go to the bakery still? Like I said, you can get whatever you want.” I say stretching out the “want”.  
“I’m sure! Use the money to treat yourself to something nice. In fact, let’s go to the jewelry shop right now!” Bella insists  
We follow the cobblestone path to the jewelry shop, chatting as we go along. Once we reach the jewelry store we are met by beautiful displays of shining necklaces and sparkling earrings. I push the front door open, hearing the wood creak as I do so.  
“Welcome to “The Larson’s Jewelry Shop”! How can I help you today?” The store owner greets us.  
“Y/n here is looking for something for themselves,” Bella says, pushing me up to the counter.  
“Uh, yes I am. Do you happen to have a bracelet of some sort? Perhaps one on the cheaper side?” I say nervously.  
“I may have something for you, how much are you willing to spend?”  
I take the three brass coins out of my pocket, showing the shopkeeper. He gives me a hesitant look until he makes his way to the back of the store.  
“Do you think this will be enough? How much does he charge?” I mutter  
Bella walks over to one of the displays in front of the window.  
“It says this ring is 24 gouldings,” Bella responds, looking at the price tag of the shiny gold ring.  
“Wh-what?! But I only have three, I don’t think I can afford anything in this store.” I say  
The store owner walks out from the back of the store holding a small square box made out of wood.  
“I suspect I could sell this to you for three gouldings, I’ve had it in the store for almost two years and no one has even shown interest in it.”  
He opens the box, revealing a dull stone ring with a small piece of jade in the middle.  
“It’s nothing special, I actually found it on the ground awhile back,” he says chuckling, “It’s very fascinating actually, it could have been anyone’s,” he adds, admiring the piece of jewelry.  
“It’s very beautiful, I’ll take it.” I reply, handing him the three coins.  
“Thank you for your business, I’ll hopefully see you again!” He says after handing me the smooth wooden box.  
Bella and I walk out of the store, waving and wishing him well. I immediately take the ring out of its case and slip it on my thumb; a perfect fit.  
“Isn’t it beautiful? I can’t believe it was only three gouldings!” I exclaim, holding the ring up to the sun to get a better view.  
“It really is, I wonder whose ring it was before. I bet it has a lot of history.”

We make our way to Bella’s house, getting easily distracted by the smallest things;  
“Hey look at that cute bird!” I say, pointing at a small round bird, “I’ve never seen one like that before.”  
“Hm I haven’t either,” Bella turns her head to the bright yellow bird perched in the trees, “but it is very cute.”  
We approach Bella’s house; my second home. Whenever I need to, I come here to talk to Bella, or to get away from the overwhelming emotion my home brings me, no questions asked. She turns the brass knob of the heavy wooden door, revealing a quaint home very similar to mine.  
‘Mom? Pa? You here?” Bella calls out.  
“I’m in here honey!” a sweet feminine voice replies  
In walks her mother, holding a dull and worn out green dress. “For you,” she hands the dress to Bella, “for the reaping tomorrow. It was mine when I was your age. I thought it would be better than those old rags you usually wear to the reaping.” she says with a soft smile  
Bella takes the dress, giving a “thank you” in response. “Y/n sweetie!” she turns to you, “It’s so wonderful to see you,” she exclaims engulfing you in a hug.  
“Hi Mrs.Menken, it’s great to see you as well!” I return the hug.  
“Will you be joining us for dinner? We would love to have you.” she offers  
I kindly decline, telling her I promised my father I would go hunting with him.  
“Well, since Y/n has to leave soon I suppose we could give you your present now. Your father will be getting home about now as well.” she tells Bella before going to get her gift.  
I follow Bella to the couch, sitting on the firm, thin cushions. I started talking to Bella about the reaping, until I was interrupted by the front door opening.  
“Hey pa! Have a good day at work?” Bella runs up and gives him a hug.  
“I did, I did. We had more sales than usual at the market today.” he chuckles  
“Hi Mr.Menken!” I wave  
“Oh hello Y/n, fancy seeing you here.” he jokes  
Mrs.Menken walks into the living room holding a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with red yarn.  
“I hope you like it, I’ve been working on it for the past two months.” she says as she hands the parcel to Bella.  
She pulls the string, untieing it and allowing her to unwrap the gift. She removes the paper, revealing a bright blue knitted fabric.  
“A scarf!” she says after taking it out of the paper, “thank you mom I love it.”  
“It’s very beautiful,” I comment, “I just wish you would have let me buy you dessert, now you haven’t got a gift from me.”  
“Oh sweetie, this gift is from all of us don’t worry,” Mrs.Menken says patting me on the back

After chatting and catching up, I wish the Menkens well and head home. I always love walking through town. It’s so peaceful, hearing the faint conversations of citizens. I take my time, feeling the crisp breeze brush past my skin. I star to whistle a tune, improvising as I go along and walking to the beat. I shortly near my house, approaching the front door and walking inside. Right away I am met by my father washing dishes in the kitchen.  
“Still up for hunting? I reckon I could get us at least two turkeys,” I say cockily  
I get a laugh in response, along with an “Of course, just let me finish these dishes.”  
I change into clothes appropriate for hunting: a dark brown long sleeve shirt and thick leather pants to protect from any poison oak that I might encounter. I then grab my father’s bow and arrow along with my throwing knives and spear. I pack them in our shared backpack, and then we’re off.  
We stray away from the cobblestone path and enter the field that meets the woods. Once we reach the woods, we make our way deeper where we know more game will be. For years my father has taught me all I need to know about hunting. He often tells me I’m almost better than him. We both ascend to the trees, making it harder for us to be seen by our prey. I ready my knives, prepared to impale any animal I see. I snap my head to the left; I swear I heard a branch break. A figure soon reveals itself, but it happens to just be a person. That same person I saw when I was here with Bella this morning. Are they stalking me? Trying to steal our kill? Whatever it was I wish they would leave. I change my attention to the trees, scanning the branches for a turkey, hen, anything. But to no avail. We wait in our same spots for over ten minutes, not moving a muscle. After waiting for what seemed like an hour, I hear the fluttering wings of a bird. I search the skies; nothing. I wait for it to appear, ready to throw my knife. The brown wings of the bird emerge from the trees and appear in the corner of my eye. I take a quick second to secure my eyes on the target, and there it goes. I watch as the medium sized turkey hits the earth. My dad quickly jumps down and secures the kill, making sure no one takes it.  
After thirty more minutes we call it a successful hunting trip and continue home with one turkey and two good sized rabbits. We put them in the icebox as we decided to make rabbit stew with the small rabbit he caught this morning. I cut the celery, carrots, and potatoes while he prepares the rabbit.  
“So, you ready for the reaping tomorrow?” my pap questions  
I sigh, “Yeah, I think so. It happens every year, I’m used to it now.”  
“Look,” he continues, “nothing will happen, but if it does, just know I love you very much.”  
“Pap, nothing’s going to happen. I only have four slips going in the drawing this year, last year I had six. But I love you too.” I smile as we continue making dinner.  
I lay in bed, struggling to sleep for fear of what will happen in the morning. With the moon shining in the window across my room, I try not to think of the worst that could happen tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

The day is here. The day where my life could be changed with a slip of paper. The slips of paper, those four slips of paper in that glass ball determine my future. I try not to imagine the outcome of the reaping and enjoy my morning. Rubbing my eyes I hop out of bed and head to the door. I enter the kitchen and am met by my father. The dark circles under his eyes and slouched posture tell me he had a hard time sleeping last night.  
“Hey pap,” I greet him in a monotone voice  
“G’morning honey. Want some breakfast?” he points to the pot of leftovers warming on the stove. I nod in response, reaching for the ladle from the pot. I take in the savory smell as I pour the steaming liquid into my bowl. I make my way to the small wooden table where my father is sitting and take a seat. We eat in silence, too scared to discuss the events of the day. The quietness was odd. We almost always talk at breakfast, eager to share our plans. I finish my meal and check the time; 9:20. The reaping starts in forty minutes. I clean off my dishes and anxiously walk to my room. As I walk to my bed, I take a moment to calm myself. Taking a deep breath, I try to assure myself that everything will be okay. But what if it isn’t? There’s no telling the future. My grandmother had only two slips of paper when she was fifteen, that day her name was called changed her whole life. I don’t know what happened after she went into the arena. She didn’t live to tell the tale, and my pap refuses to tell me. I flop onto my bed, my legs dangling off the edge. I lay there for what only felt like five minutes, but when I glance at the clock it reads 9:38. I close my eyes tight, hoping that when I open them I would be in a completely different world. One where humans aren’t forced to kill for entertainment. But I know that won’t happen. I walk over to my dresser where my brush is sitting and start running it through my hair. A tune pops into my head and I start to hum it, I can’t remember where I heard it but it calms me. When my hair looks presentable, I pull on a pair of tights the color of my skin, along with a worn out brown and sage green dress. It’s not much, but at least I look nice compared to what I usually wear. At this point we have fifteen minutes until the reaping. I walk into the living room where my dad is waiting for me. I avoid eye contact, for I know if I did I wouldn’t be able to hold back my tears. I slip on my black dress shoes that I only wear for special occasions. My dad holds the door open for me as we start our walk to the reaping.  
As we walk we see all of the town’s families walking the same direction we are. It is uncomfortably silent, all you can hear are footsteps and the occasional bird chirping. Once we arrive we wait in line to check in. We patiently wait, until it’s our turn. A lady with a perfect blonde ponytail and bright red lipstick confronts me.  
“Name?” she says harshly  
“Y/n Y/l/n,” I quickly reply  
I give her my hand for her to prick my finger. That's how they check us in, by putting our blood on a piece of paper. She stamps my finger onto the paper.  
“You’re good to go” she motions me away.  
I make my way toward the front, where I look for Bella.  
“Psst! Y/n!” I hear a high pitched voice calling my name, “Over here!”I see a brown haired girl waving at me in the crowd.  
“Hi Bella, how are you doing?” I ask sincerely  
“Alright, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Y’know how it goes.”  
Once everyone is situated, the mayor walks on stage and everyone goes quiet. He starts his speech about the history of the Hunger Games and how we should be honored to have a chance to compete in it. It’s the same thing every year. Once the mayor is done speaking, Libby Trinket makes her way to the microphone. She clears her throat and checks her posture, while trying to gain control of her bright blue hair blowing in the wind.  
“Hello everyone!” she opens her arms wide to greet everyone, “My name is Libby Trinket and I will be drawing the names for the 108th Hunger Games! Now as you may know, the criteria for being drawn has changed over the past year. Instead of it being a boy and a girl being drawn, it will be a combination of any gender to be more inclusive.” she smiles wide.  
“That’s the only good thing the capitol’s done,” I whisper to Bella, earning a giggle.  
“Now, without further ado, let’s begin the drawing for the 108th Hunger Games!”  
Bella and I lock hands, scared of the next words that will come out of Libby’s mouth. She reaches into a large glass bowl full of everyone’s names. She pulls her hand out, now holding a slip of paper between her fingers.  
“And the first tribute is,” she pauses, “Johnathon Armstrong!”  
Everyone turns their head to a little boy in the back, he couldn’t be any older than thirteen. He stands there frozen, until he is given a nudge by the person behind him. How could they do this? How could they send this young boy into the arena just to get killed? How is that entertaining? Without thinking I walk away from Bella and to the clear path in the middle of the crowd.   
“I volunteer.” what did I just say? Am I crazy?   
“And who might you be?” Libby asks me  
“I’m Y/n Y/l/n” I say, barely holding back tears  
“Well come on then,” She directs me to the stairs that lead onto the stage. “Our first tribute, Y/n Y/l/n!” when there is no applause, she clears her throat and reaches into the glass ball once more. “Our second tribute,” she pauses, creating even more tension, “Nick Armstrong!”  
I scan the crowd, looking for who this person could be. I didn’t need to look long, because there I saw a brown headed boy in the front row making his way slowly up stage.  
“So there we have it! Our two tributes of District 11!” she says happily, “Well don’t be shy, shake hands.”  
He walks over to me and offers his hand. It’s not until I see him up close that I realise who he is. He’s the boy who’s been following me.


	4. Chapter 4

He’s the boy who’s been following me. The one who I saw when Bella and I were celebrating her birthday. The one who was in the woods when I was hunting with my papa. What did he want? I hold out my hand to shake his, keeping a straight face. Does he know I’m the person he’s been following? He walks back to his original place on stage and the anthem of Panem starts to play. When the song comes to an end multiple peacekeepers take us into the courthouse behind the stage. I’ve heard it’s because years ago, a tribute from District 10 tried to run. They didn’t make it very far, but it was enough for every tribute to be accompanied by a peacekeeper to prevent it from happening again. We are brought into separate rooms to wait to say our final goodbyes to friends and family. Bella and her parents come in first. Bella can’t help but burst out in tears when she sees me. I sprint over and engulf her in a hug.  
“Hey, hey it will be okay,” I assure her.  
She breaks from the hug and places her hands on my shoulders.  
“I know. You are tough, you will make it through this. You have to,” she wipes the remaining tears from her eyes.  
Bella and I have never been separated, we’ve known each other since we were three and have been best friends ever since. I turn to her parents holding back tears, her mother immediately embraces me.   
“Listen honey,” she starts, “I’ve known you for sixteen years, and in that time I’ve come to think of you as my child. I know you can get through this, you’re Y/n, of course you can get through this.”  
“Thank you Mrs.Menken.” it was especially hard to say goodbye to her, she’s like a mother to me.  
“It’s Josie,” she interrupts smiling.  
Even though I’ve known her since I was three, I still have never called her by her real name. My dad taught me that it’s a respect thing. Finally, Bella’s dad pats me on the back and wishes me well. I’ve never been that close to him, but I can tell he’s holding back tears.  
After Bella and her parents leave, it’s only a few minutes until my dad walks in. He immediately walks over to me and gives me the tightest hug I’ve ever received.   
“You’re not going there,” he states, “You’re not going to go into that arena to die for people’s entertainment. I won’t let you.”  
“Pap there’s nothing we can do about it.” I squeeze him tight.  
“No there has to be something. We can- we can run away. Sneak out of here. No one will see us.” he says desperately, gripping onto his last alive loved one.  
“There are peacekeepers everywhere, they will see us and when they do they will shoot us. At least when I’m in the games I’ll have a chance to survive. Those peacekeepers are ruthless and won’t hesitate to gun us down.” I reply sternly.  
He nods in agreement and we both sit down on the leather bench next to the wall.  
“You do whatever you have to do to survive in there,” he tells me, “Be ruthless, that’s the only way you’ll make it out of there. Trust no one.”  
“Don’t worry, I’m tougher than you think I am.”  
“No Y/n, I know how tough you are. You are tougher than I’ll ever be,” he says holding my hands tight.  
Soon enough two peacekeepers come in and tell my dad it’s time to go. Before he leaves, we embrace once more. Neither of us let go, hoping it would prevent me having to go to the games. But we both know that that wouldn’t happen.  
“C’mon Mr.Y/l/n, we have places to be,” the first peacekeeper says impatiently  
When we don’t stop hugging they step closer, trying to intimidate us. The second peacekeeper steps up.  
“It’s time to go, you both know the rules.”  
When we still refuse to listen, the first peacekeeper steps behind my dad and grabs him by the shoulders, attempting to pull him away from me. When that doesn’t work the second peacekeeper walks behind me, putting his hands away from my waist attempting to pull me away.  
“Don’t touch her!” my dad shouts, trying to catch his breath.  
We soon both run out of stamina, the strong peacekeepers now being able to pry us apart. The second one still doesn’t let me go, preventing me from running after my father. The first one drags my father out the door and away from me, for potentially the last time.   
After my dad is brought outside to the courtyard I am escorted to the train that will bring us to the capitol. I have never been on a train, let alone a train to the capitol. As we approach the train I am amazed. The train was shiny white, like it had just been deep cleaned that morning. I’m shown the way inside, my breath being taken away by every detail. The stairs that led into the train were lined with a deep red carpet, and the lounge area accompanied by a lush white carpet. How do they keep it so clean? I thought. It’s like people from the capitol have never touched a speck of dirt in their lives. There is spotless white furniture, a large television, and beautiful red wallpaper lining the room. I’m taken to a special room meant for the tributes, it’s almost a replica of the lounge area we passed on the way here. I sit down in one of the white leather chairs, trying to make myself comfortable.   
I have only been sitting here for a minute or so, admiring my surroundings when I hear a door open. It was Nick, the other tribute who seemed to have gotten here before me. I glare at him, hoping he would recognise me.  
“Hey, it’s Y/n right?” he asks, holding out his hand as he did on stage at the reaping.  
I stand up, ignoring his hand.  
“Why have you been following me huh? What’s your deal?” for all I know he was planning to murder me.  
“What do you- ohhh,” he chuckles, “That was you? You look different up close.”  
“Excuse me?” I cross my arms.  
“No- no not like that, I just meant that some people look different at different angles and I’ve never properly talked to you-”  
“Answer my question Nick.” I interrupt him.  
“I saw you come into my Grandpa's shop,” he says bluntly.  
I furrow my brow, trying to remember. “You mean Larson’s Jewelry Shop?”   
“Yup, that’s it. You dropped this in there.” he holds out a piece of parchment with my name on it.  
“You didn’t read it did you?” I reply, flustered.  
He hesitates, contemplating whether to tell the truth or not.  
“Yeah I did, but it was good!” he tells me, “You’re really good at writing poetry.”  
I stuff the parchment in my pocket. I have never shown anyone my poetry before. Not even Bella. And the fact that a total stranger was the first to read it ticked me off.  
“I tried to give it to you, but you seemed busy. I figured I could just drop it by your house one day,” he smiles awkwardly.   
“That still doesn’t explain why I saw you in the woods before I went to the jewelry store.”  
“That was actually a coincidence,” Nick exclaims, “I go to those woods all the time, and i rarely see people over there so I went to check it out.”  
Yeah I guess that makes sense, maybe I was overreacting. I sit back down and try to calm down.   
“You can call me Sapnap by the way,” he continues, “Only my family calls me Nick.”  
I smile and turn my head to the window. Looks like the train is starting to move.


	5. Chapter 5

The train wheels start to turn, and the sliding door I entered earlier starts to open. I look over to see the familiar face of Libby Trinket followed by a brown-haired, chiseled-looking man.   
“Hello, tributes! It’s nice to formally meet you,” Libby states. I’m unable to tell whether she’s being genuine or not.   
I smile in response, not knowing what to say.   
“Have you two got acquainted?” she asks, still standing in the doorway.  
I start to respond, “Yeah I think..” when Sapnap speaks over me.  
“Yes I’d say so, we got to chat a little before you came in.”  
Who’s he trying to impress? I look at his cheeky smile and want to punch him. You’re supposed to suck up to the audience, not the people who run the damn thing.  
“Well great! I hope you two will get to know each other well,” she stands up, motioning the brown-haired man to step forward, “I’d like to introduce you to your mentor. He’ll be guiding and helping you through this whole process.”  
He walks closer, fiddling with the toothpick in his mouth.   
“Nice to meet you both, I’m excited to work with you,” he smiles an awkward toothy smile, “My name is Johnathan Schlatt, but you can call me John or Schlatt, whatever makes you feel better,” he winks jokingly.  
Libby laughs an obnoxious laugh, “Anywho, it’s time to eat! Follow me and I’ll lead you to the dining car.”  
I just had breakfast a few hours ago, how often do these people eat? Without question, I follow Libby and Schlatt, Sapnap behind me. As we make our way to the dining car we pass many other rooms. Most of them looking exactly like the next; white walls, white rugs, and white furniture. I hate it. The abundance of white reminds me of a hospital and the bright lights aren’t helping either. We finally reach the dining car, which seems much bigger than the other rooms. A large wooden table sits in the middle covered in a refreshing red tablecloth. There are four polished plates in front of either chair accompanied by sparkling silverware. I am told to sit at one end of the table, and Sapnap on the other end. Libby sits in the middle on my left, and Schlatt to my right. We sit in silence while the caterers bring out the food. Large silver bowls of green beans, roasted potatoes, and corn are placed on the table. A second person enters with a silver platter of pork chops, and another with steak. Finally, a platter full of oysters and a bowl of some type of black orb are brought over.   
All this for only four people? Seriously, how much do they eat? I look at all of the seemingly exotic foods surrounding me, not being able to identify multiple of the dishes. Libby is the first to reach for one of the bowls. I watch as she spoons roasted potatoes and green beans onto her plate, followed by a good portion of pork chop. She finally adds a small spoonful of the black orbs to top it off.   
I sit with my hands in my lap, I’m not very hungry and I’m unsure if it would be impolite to reach over the table to grab the corn. I’ve only had corn once in my life, but I remember it being sweet and full of flavor. I look over to Schlatt who already has a large slab of steak and many green beans on his plate. When neither Sapnap nor I don’t reach for the food Schlatt speaks up.   
“Well go on then, don’t be shy,” he motions to the multiple dishes on the table.  
I sheepishly reach for the corn and pour some onto my plate. I contemplate whether I wanted to try the steak, but in the end, I decided to. Lastly, I grab those black things and grab only a tiny spoonful. Maybe they’re some type of dessert? They look like they could be sweet.   
“So,” Schlatt speaks up. “So let’s cut to the chase, what are your guys’ plans?”  
Plans? Plans? We’ve only just found out We’ll be competing this morning. Who does he think we are?  
“Plans? I haven’t really thought out a plan.” Sapnap answers honestly.  
“I haven’t either, considering I just found out I will be in the Hunger Games this morning.” I try not to sound too snarky.  
Schlatt clears his throat, “Almost everyone who goes into the arena has a plan, if you go in there without one you’re most likely to be one of the first gone,” he turns to me, “And you volunteered, I thought you would at least have a bit of a plan.”  
What did he just say to me?   
“Sorry, Johnathan but I didn’t exactly plan on volunteering for a complete stranger this morning.”  
“Stranger? I thought you knew the kid considering you didn’t hesitate to volunteer for ‘em,” he responds.  
“No he was a completely random kid,” I say sternly.  
“He’s my brother,” Sapnap blurts.   
I look around in confusion, hoping someone would speak up.  
“What?” I question.  
“He wasn’t a random kid, he’s my brother.”  
“I-I’m sorry I didn’t know..” I trail off, not knowing how to respond.  
Schlatt abruptly changes the subject, “So what are both of your weapons of choice?”   
He really does cut to the chase, doesn’t he?  
Sapnap hesitates, so I speak up.  
“Well, I guess I’m pretty good with knives, and I’ve used spears a few times.”   
He nods, “Those are solid options. Knives were my second choice in the arena. And you?” He looks toward Sapnap.  
He pauses before answering, “I’d say my first choice would be an axe, but if that’s not good-” Schlatt interrupts him.  
“That’s perfect!” Schlatt chuckles, “Both amazing choices, I’ll definitely be able to teach you well.”   
After dinner, Sapnap and I go back to our original room to watch the other district’s reapings. I don’t particularly like watching them, but it’s crucial to get as much information about our competition as possible. We go in order from district 2 to 10, we both refused to watch our own reaping. Who would want to relive that suffering, the moment you realize you won’t see your family or friends again? We don’t watch district 1 or 12 because, well, there are no districts 1 and 12. The Capitol bombed District 12 years ago, and District 1 was destroyed by a large mob of angry people from districts 3 and 4 during the 99th Hunger Games. It was discovered many years ago that there was a District 13, but the Capitol refuses to let them participate in the games.  
The reaping of District 2 starts to play on the television, revealing a girl with bright scarlet hair and a brown-haired boy. You can tell they’re both careers; the people who train to be in the Hunger Games for their whole life, waiting impatiently for their turn. Next is District 3, first a young blonde child walks on stage followed by a man with pale skin and dark hair. I don’t pay attention to any of their names, that’s not important to me. I don’t pay attention to Districts 4 or 5, they all seem to be the same; the tributes walk on stage, shake hands, and Libby makes a big deal out of it. The next reaping we watch, though, is different. First, a tall blond boy’s name is called. He walks on stage with his head high, never daring to show his emotions. Libby reaches for the next slip of paper which reads “Serista Augsborn”. She begins to walk on stage when her mother runs over, grabbing hold of her and refusing to let her go. Two peacekeepers have to drag her away from her daughter and away from the crowd. I zone out for the rest of the reapings, almost falling asleep until Sapnap speaks up.  
“C’mon, there’s only one left. I don’t like it either, but there’s just one left.”  
I lift my head and turn my attention to the large television in front of us. I watch as Libby claps for the first tribute while he walks on stage. A tall blonde-haired man with sparkling eyes and a sharp jawline.   
“You can tell he’s gonna get a lot of sponsors,” I scoff.  
“Why? What do you mean?” Sapnap furrows his brow.  
“Because, well, because good-looking people tend to get the most sponsors,” I explain.  
Sapnap rolls his eyes. “He’s not that handsome.”  
I shoosh him as the last tribute is being called. He’s a younger brown-haired boy. He’s shaking and is visibly scared, I feel bad for him.  
Only a few minutes after we are finished, Schlatt opens the door.  
“Done watching those reapings yet?”  
“Yup,” I say blatantly.  
“Oh good, you should probably get some rest, we’re going to be arriving at the Capitol in only a few hours,” He smiles softly before sliding the door closed.


End file.
